Spring races in

This week, how I learned to stop worrying and – literally – smell the roses. A spring-y market haul and a recipe for cream of spinach gratin.

We took the bus from Béziers airport to the village, through the vineyards where fresh green leaves emerge from the gnarled old wood. The verges are bright with poppies and borage. Every time we return from a trip to England, this bus journey feels more like coming home.

We clanked open our heavy garden gate (you’re next on the renovation list, creaky ol…